


Vitiate

by Hoodedscarlet



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: King!Geoff, M/M, Mad King!Ryan, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodedscarlet/pseuds/Hoodedscarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>vitiate</b><br/>vi|ti|ate<br/><i>verb - formal</i><br/>To reduce the value or impair the quality of | to taint morally | to debase; corrupt; pervert.</p><p>-x-</p><p>Geoff Ramsey is the king of Consequia, a powerful kingdom that has been united under his family's name for generations. But when his closest adviser and right hand man Ryan Haywood snaps Geoff disappears, supposedly killed by the Mad King's own hand.<br/>Five years later Geoff emerges alive from hiding, and with five of his closest companions by his side together they must rise to take back from Ryan what is rightfully theirs - and figure out just what went wrong all those years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vitiate

  
“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”  
― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution

-x-  


The night was eerily quiet.

Of course, for Geoff Ramsey, king of Consequia and in his own words ‘just your run of the mill, general badass’ the quiet of the night was an uncanny occurrence. Surrounded by men almost all times of the day, the night brought a quiet, a silence that wrapped around the halls like a thick blanket – whether it was suffocating thick or comforting was something he hadn’t quite decided on even as all his years as king.

Geoff had retired to his chambers long ago, feeling the wear of a long day on his body and mind. But sleep wouldn’t come easily to him tonight. Something just didn’t feel _right_. In fact, he’d tossed and turned so much that Lindsay had run in, the maid looking rather distressed as she asked if he was alright, if he had a fever _‘are you sure you’re okay I can go and make you something!’_. Thankfully that wasn’t the case, the early winter chill not having quite reached him yet and Geoff was able to shoo the nervous looking woman back out the door with an easy smile and a ‘ _really, I’ll call you if there’s anything you can do, promise”_

With an undetermined amount of time now stretching out of him however he found himself in the study adjacent to his room, fire burning low in the hearth as he turned over a book in his hands carding through the yellowed pages with a careful ease. The spine was in scripted with a language that the king was nowhere near fluent in but more than familiar with all the same; while he couldn’t read each rune, he could see the symbols for ‘knowledge’ and ‘magic’ adorning the leather, glinting in the light.

His father (bless his soul) had been a wise and just ruler, but his resentment of magic had always been something that had confused Geoff. The lands their country lay on thrived on magic; while Geoff didn’t have the something-something, the ‘spark’ needed to wield it, even he could see how the forests twisted and thrived with a potent energy.

He had been delighted to see over his years as king that the forest and surrounding farmland had grown and thrived under his touch – he liked to think it was because of his more open nature towards magic and the landscape responding in kind but it may have merely been that more people were practicing the art now, channeling and using the life force inside and around them as intended.

Even men in his court were coming forward with their own powers, in particular Geoff’s mind was drawn to two individuals who had. Gavin, his jester, had a fondness for fires and explosions which made some of his ‘jokes’ rather startling at times. The kid’s heart was in the right place though – there was a reason the young man had lived most of his time in the country in his castle. The other was his beloved advisor and right hand man Ryan, an adept user of light and healing magic that had a surprising air of innocence around it despite his age. If he were to be honest the man was probably the sole reason he was not only aware of magic, but was as open to it as he was – he had many a fond memory of watching Ryan when he was younger growing into the adept mage he was today.

A knock at the door startled him out of his daydream, and he dropped the book in his hands as his gaze shot to the door. A visitor? Now? It certainly wasn’t unheard of; when he was only a prince whom had yet to prove his worth and ability to take the throne it was a visit at this sort of hour that had set him off on his long quest to slay the Ender dragon.

But even with that logic the question of why somebody had chosen to visit now was one that worried him slightly. That the matter couldn’t have waited until morning…

“Come in?”

The door slid open, sure footsteps of the man’s boots clicking against the stone floor as the figure entered the room and followed by a cold chill that made Geoff glad he was sitting so close to the fireplace. The man was dressed surprisingly formal for the hour; a heavy cloak on his shoulders that obscured the majority of his figure. What wasn’t hard to recognise though was the distinctive blonde brown hair, mussed over his face.

“Ryan!” Geoff said warmly, the easy going smile on his face returning. It rarely left his face; there was little for him to frown about “I should’ve guessed it was you after our talk today. Isn’t it a bit late for you to be here though?” Ryan said nothing, the light from the fire casting long shadows across his face.

“Why are you here? Did you hear something from Avisdente? Are things alright over there? Did you hear from Rubis and Asul? I mean things have been tense over that way for years but has one of them finally cracked-“

“No."

“Ryan, cut the mysterious bullshit and tell me what’s going on.” Geoff said the words with the authority that a man of his stature should carry, but they could both hear the uncertain nature to his words. The very fact that Geoff had to address Ryan like that already worried him. He could feel the air in the room go stagnant. Geoff realized the chill that had followed Ryan into the room had never quite left after all, and he watched as the other man started to laugh, shoulders shaking.

“Oh Geoff, you act as if you don’t know-“

“I don’t-“  
  
“Oh, but you do.” Ryan said, chuckling with a malicious tone that made something cold slither down his spine. “The outreaches of the kingdom have already reported food shortages and the winter hasn’t even hit. There have been numerous skeleton raids to the east – and do you ever answer their cries? Even when your finest knights, even when _Michael_ of all people is battering at your door to let him go you don’t listen, do you?” A silence that lasted just a touch too long.

“He was needed elsewhere.”

“He didn’t move from the castle for the rest of the month.”  Ryan said back. “I saw him sparring almost every day; he cut through ten times his own weight in straw dummies you know. That hardly sounds like he was _needed.”_

“There were rumours the castle was going to be compromised.”

“And when were you ever one to believe rumours?” Geoff’s mouth curled into a straight line.

“And still, still there are mages that walk the streets that fear the prejudice that marks them with a target on their backs because the life force of the world runs through them-“

“Don’t you _dare_ say that’s my fault.” Geoff hissed, eyes livid. “The world is changing Ryan.”

“If the world really was changing, then there still wouldn’t be deaths every god damn night, people just ‘mysteriously’ disappearing even though everybody knows exactly why they’re becoming dog food!”

“Just look at the castle and tell me that’s true-“

“-And you can also personally slap sense into anybody in the castle that dares defy you. You don’t use magic yourself. That’s all anybody sees in the end.”

Silence hung heavy in the air; Geoff gritted his teeth.

“What do you want from me.” It was a statement, not a question. Ryan just grinned and Geoff just knew he could read the confusion and apprehension that was bleeding onto the king’s face.

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you…. Well, nothing that you’d be willing to give anyway.” And that was when Ryan met his eyes, and god they were so cold, so pale. There was no trace of the man that Geoff cared for, loved so deeply.

All Geoff could see was a madman staring back.

“Isn’t it time for a new king?”

That was all Geoff knew before he had to throw himself to the floor, crying out as he felt something whistle far too close to his forehead and the wall shatter behind him. He scrambled to his feet as another blast hit the floor, Ryan smirking with an uncharacteristic darkness winding and pulsing between his fingers and there was something _wrong wrong wrong oh god-_

“Ryan _please,_ tell me what’s going on-“ Geoff yelled as another shot of dark energy clipped him on the shoulder.  It ached, it burned; he could practically feel the skin shriveling under the corruption.

“You want an explanation?” Ryan laughed, a short sharp sound.  “Well, somebody less civil than you and I might call it mutiny. But that’s _hardly_ the correct term for it in my humble opinion. Mutinies are messy, vicious things, done without planning, without foresight. Do I look like a man that hasn’t thought this through? That didn’t plan everything out meticulously? Not to mention you know as well as I do that I know how to run a country. That’s why I here, isn’t? That’s why I’m your  _adviser_ , isn’t it?”

“You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“I think I have more idea than you ever did.”

 “I fucking trusted you.” Geoff spat, a potent mix of anger and fear making his body shake.

“I know you did.” He said with a smirk that just oozed _and that’s exactly why I did this_. “This is a revolution Geoff. And you’re not going to be a part of it.”

“What the actual fuck Ryan-“  
  
"Frankly, you’re just wasting my time now.” Ryan said, and he would have seemed almost bored with the progressions if it wasn’t for the blood lust glinting wickedly in his eyes. “Just hold still Geoff, and I can promise I’ll make your death as quick as possible. Or perhaps I’ll find something more pleasant for you to do. Either way, I’ll make sure it’s painless.” Ryan was pressing him against the wall now, arms caging Geoff in on either side.

“Just submit.” Geoff paused for a moment, observing Ryan’s face, making a show over mulling his options over in his mind before snarling once again.

 “Fuck that.” Geoff spat, before head-butting Ryan right in the forehead. It hurt like a bitch, and even Geoff had to take a moment to re-orientate himself after the attack. But he had the element of surprise on his side, and while Ryan was still reeling Geoff was able to wrench himself from his former adviser’s grasp, slipping under Ryan’s outstretched arm and swinging out into the hall with angry yells following after him.

He could hear the distant sounds of sword fighting – down in the courtyards of the castle no doubt. His poor men; he knew that none of them had even knew what had hit them before being pulled into this. Did they have enough time to put on any armour? Did they even time to grab a sword?

He rounded a corner to see blood splattering the wall and a crumpled body to one side; the image made Geoff want to retch just at the sight.

But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, he was a man on the run and he had just enough mind to see the black hair and lanky figure and hope it wasn’t Ray that had suffered that cruel fate. The poor guard hadn’t even been on the job a few months.

Grabbing a mounted sword off the wall, he clutched the handle like it was a lifeline as he continued down the hall. It was in a way; he recognized the metalwork as distantly Jack’s. The blacksmith was one of Geoff’s oldest friends and knowing he held a piece of him in his hands made Geoff feel a little more easy. The main stairs were rising in both directions in front of him, if he could only just get to them and take them down he’d be out, he’d be able to help his men-

Suddenly two soldiers stumbled out some distance in front of him, blocking his path with their bodies and swords drawn in front of them. But Geoff could already tell something was wrong again; the way their bodies lulled over as if ready to fold in on themselves, the way that their eyes seemed to look past him, unfocused in their gaze. But what had Geoff most struck was the state the men were in. The first had multiple wounds through his chest with the blood crusted in his clothes, the second with several slashes to his sternum. The largest of the slashes had ripped the surrounding clothing to shreds, and even at the distance he was away from the men Geoff could see the wound festering shades of sickly green.

They were dead men walking; literally.

With an animalistic roar the two men launched themselves at him, stumbling forward and making Geoff promptly jump back and run the other way because fuck, Ryan driven mad with power was bad enough. Ryan driven mad with necromantic powers? Well, he didn’t want to say he might as well kiss his life goodbye – but it was starting to look like escaping here with his life was going to be a fucking miracle in itself.

Passing the thankfully still dead guard, he took a right, away from his quarters and towards a currently unoccupied area of the castle. If he could just get to the end of this corridor… He could hear something treading the corridors behind him with heavy footsteps and he could feel his heart slam against his ribs at the thought. His death was not on the cards tonight – and certainly not by his best friend.

He tried to ignore the twisting in his gut, of why Ryan would do such a thing, how Ryan’s resentment towards his king had built so rapidly into… this. But he forced the thoughts out of his mind, forced himself to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other even as his lungs began to burn, his muscles began to ache.

He hit the stone wall with a slap, fingers scrambling in the slabs for the one loose brick and nails scratching nosily against the stone. But with fingers made clumsy from fright for a few achingly long seconds he couldn’t find it, _he couldn’t find it_ and it made him want to scream because he was not a rat, he would not be trapped and wait for his execution like some commoner because he was Geoff fucking Ramsey and would either get the hell out of here or die trying.

And then his fingers found the indent and the brick slid back with a clunk and as soon as the door ground open with enough space he shot through like a bullet. Because outside was too open, far too open and he could almost feel the dead gaze of the undead soldiers on his neck even though he’d heard their footsteps fade long ago.

As the door ground shut behind him, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, long ragged breaths that grated against his throat and sounded unbearably loud in the stone corridor. He slid to the floor, head between his legs as he forced his breathing into a more regular pattern, in, out, in, out. Each sound he made, even the whisper of his breath felt too loud – like someone, something could find him if they just stayed quiet and listened.

Nobody could hear him in here though, he knew that. He’d played in these corridors as a child too many times not to know all their secrets and it took a lot more than steady breathing for a man to be heard outside the claustrophobically close walls. Quite frankly, for him to actually be using these passageways for their intended purpose instead of an intense game of hide and seek was jarring all in itself.

Once he had recovered enough, he took to his feet, moving down the stairs with a quickness appropriate for the moment. He had to keep moving. While he was as safe as he could get in these passageways, he knew Ryan wasn’t going to stop until he was found and killed. The thought alone spurred him on.

He was so absorbed in leaving he didn’t hear the steps clicking behind him.

Geoff screamed as a thick hand fastened around his neck, the sound being cut off unceremoniously as he was yanked back and up. Hands came up to tug at the grasp around his throat, trying to pry apart the meaty fingers that were restricting his airway. He couldn’t breathe _he couldn’t breathe_ and he didn’t even know the face of the man attacking him as the world started to spin, as the black started to encroach on his vision and fade his world into darkness.

But suddenly the grasp on his throat released, just the smallest bit and he rasped out a breath as he was manhandled to face his attacker.

Part of him now wished he hadn’t.  
  
The creature, the _thing_ that held him was twice as big as a regular man, an animal skull obscuring the majority of its face. Thick, wide horns protruded from the sides of its head, the bone still bloody and the curled ends menacingly sharp. Geoff could smell blood on its breath; could practically feel the innocent blood on its hands. Its eyes met his in a vice like gaze – but there was no pupil, no iris, only a bloodshot white that seemed to worm in his conscious and choke him from the inside as well as the creature could out.

Before Geoff could say anything the creature started climbing, holding him in one hand as he clambered up the stairs with the steady clicking of hooves against the stairs a ticking timer towards Geoff’s fate… Whatever that fate was going to be. Geoff could feel his pulse in his temple, his fingers still scrambling hopelessly at the thickened skin of the creature’s fingers in an attempt to get out, to get _away_ because meeting with Ryan again in the mood he was in? He shuddered to think about it.

As he saw the end of the passage lowering to meet them though and the beast slowed to a stop, Geoff allowed himself to hope. It was far too big for the door and even if it wasn’t its fingertips were too large and bulky to find the open switch. He could hear its nostril’s flaring in frustration and Geoff redoubled his efforts, kicking out at the beast’s chest and scratching long lines into its skin. All the creature did in return was to stomp its hoof, dragging it along the rough stone as its head lowered.

Too late, the king realized what was going to happen.

With an ear splitting roar the creature charged, taking the stairs two at a time going faster and faster and Geoff only had moments to cover his face before he heard a sickening crack and the wall shattered around them, the creature shuddering to a halt as the impact rattled its senses. It stumbled, dazed by the impact.

When Geoff tumbled to the floor like a rejected ragdoll, it only took moments to start running.

A pained roar sounded from behind him, hooves scraping against stone once more and Geoff saw a flash of its form just as he swung around a corner, heading towards the staircase of the right most tower of the castle. It was closest, it went to the ground and that was the place he needed to be the most right now; on the ground, in the thick forest where his men fought and his tracks would be impossible to follow.

He cut around more dead bodies on the ground, their blood seeping into thick puddles between the cracks of the stone as the entrance to the tower came into sight. But he’d forgotten about the undead soldiers  - of _course_ he’d fucking forgotten them – and as their unfocused eyes settled on Geoff they started to lurch forward, left, right, left, right, synchronised like a pack of marionettes.

And Geoff tried to tear past them, he really did, but their bony and rotted fingers tore at his clothes, his arms, his face and bit by bit he was dragged back, back into the waiting maw of the god forsaken creature with the bloodshot eyes. When it’s fingers closed around him once more, it felt like a death sentence.

The beast started off again, gaining speed as it reached the main stairwell. But instead of going down he was carried up, up, up, the asphyxiation scrambling Geoff’s mind and making it impossible to tell where they were going.

The cool night was like a slap to the face as Geoff broke out onto the castle wall, the chill of the air sending jolts of cold through him, settling in his chest to chill him from the inside out. But his physical discomfort paled in comparison to the way his thoughts shuddered to a stop as he took in the sight before him.

It was the same made; the cloak, the boots but Geoff could see the Ryan’s face and it was the face of a man who had quite simply snapped. His features were contorted into a sadistic grin, the sharp wind blowing back his cape in a mockery of a hero’s stance. Below them a battle raged on, men against what Geoff could barely consider men and the stench of death that rose from the background made bile rise steadily in his throat. This was beyond wrong and Geoff’s heart _ached_ to see the men that he held so near and dear to him trading blows with an enemy that he doubted would ever fall for good. Already he could see the bodies steadily rising.

Nobody had seen this coming. Nobody had seen Ryan coming.

A stab of physical pain went through Geoff as he realized not regretting the signs earlier – that he even had to be looking out for them in the first place.

It seemed that Ryan chose that particular moment to notice him, and his eyes flashed something wicked at the sight of him run ragged, panting, still struggling weakly despite how royally screwed he was.

“Edgar, you’ve done well.” Ryan said, genuine pleasure humming in his voice. The beast grunted in return, dropping Geoff unceremoniously to the ground in front of Ryan before moving back. Geoff clutched at the ground like he could pull the stone up into his hands like putty, wheezing through his bruising throat. The bovine lumbered over to its master; despite its thick skin it was also adorned in surprisingly practical leather armour; while its chest was bare straps that ran across the muscle secured broad shoulder pads, a loincloth and greaves protecting lower areas.

Edgar looked the essence of a creature constructed to kill – but then, all it took was a glance into the sunken whites of his eyes to come to the same conclusion.

“Oh Geoff.” Ryan said, sauntering forward, rolling the words between his teeth like a fine wine. “You could’ve made it so much easier for yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Geoff spat, struggling to his feet even as his legs shook underneath him as he rose to his feet, a calf rising on still unsure legs. Ryan just cocked his head to the side, as if observing a rather unruly child, that god awful smirk never leaving his face.

“You’ve always been a persistent one, haven’t you?” Ryan said “Pity, really. It’s the persistent ones that can change, adapt. I bet if I’d locked you up in the dungeon you would have outlasted all your men, wouldn’t you? Watched them each die off around you until you don’t even notice the smell of rotting flesh, until life becomes as fickle and meaningless to you as it does me. It would be nice for you to join me again.” Geoff had always been the shorter one but it’d never bothered him until now; the few inches Ryan had on him now felt like a mile and he felt more and more trapped as Ryan trapped his chin between forefinger and thumb. His breath was jarringly sweet – a puzzle piece that didn’t fit quite right.

“Or perhaps your persistence could have been put to better use. You could have been my court whore Geoff. Can you imagine?” He purred the words into the older man’s ear, yanking his head back and exposing the pale flesh of the king’s throat. “From running a country, to serving its new ruler in the most _disgraceful_ way possible.  And you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you?” He chucked, holding Geoff tight even as he tried to jerk away as he whispered the words against the skin of his throat.

“Tell me now truthfully you don’t like the idea. You don’t like the idea of wearing my bites proud around your neck like jewellery. Of sinking to your knees at even the thought of the taste of my -“

“-Never.” Geoff snarled, snapping at Ryan like a rabid dog. “Not when you’re acting like a fucking freak, when you can’t even fucking see what the hell you’re getting yourself into, when you can’t get it through your thick skin you didn’t _have_ to do this Ryan. There was never any god damn reason you had to do this if you’d only just told me to fucking _listen_.” Ryan only sighed, before tutting him as if scolding a child.

“And here lies the problem.” Ryan said, squeezing Geoff’s cheeks and all but ignoring his outburst. “You’re so _frightfully_ stubborn. Even if I did give you a chance to live on in my court, you’d try to escape, wouldn’t you? Try and rise up against me?”  He sighed, tracing a nail back and forth, back and forth over Geoff’s Adam’s apple and humming contently when it shook under the unwanted attention.

“I’d hoped that it wouldn’t end like this…” Ryan said, shaking his head before he stood, climbing the steps to the top of the tower. Behind him the ground turned down sharply, thick foliage obscuring the ground a dizzying distance below. Mountains rose in the distance, blocking the distant horizon from view.

“Pick him up.” He said, throwing the phrase over his shoulder. But Edgar was ever watching, ever waiting and when Ryan gave the word Geoff was once again a rag doll in the beast’s eyes. Edgar rose up the steps to join Ryan.

Then Edgar leaned his head back and let out a almighty bellow that shook Geoff to his core.

All the fighting stopped; Ryan’s army dropped its weapons while Geoff’s guard found themselves literally unable to move, forced to look at the man that stood up the castle like a lord.

Like a king.

“The battle is lost; your king is captured.” Ryan said, his voice echoing loud and sombre over there castle, the battleground; Geoff found himself caught with a prayer in his throat. “See him in Edgar’s hand – know that I am not lying.” Geoff was thrust out towards the impromptu congregation as if on cue and he could feel the disbelieving eyes of his soldiers on him as he hung just barely fighting back, exhaustion making him docile.

“You, the men that stand before me, are admirable in your confidence and willingness to defend a… _misdirected_ king. So I have a proposition for you.” He said, gesturing to the group at large.

“You may find your loyalty cannot be swayed. That you are willing to follow this Fool’s king to the ends of the earth. It is understandable. You have been under Ramsey rule for such a long time, five generations. It’s a loyalty that’s hard to sway. But know that you will not leave the castle tonight if that is your choice. A new age is coming gentleman, and there is only room for one revolutionary.” He paused for a moment, letting the words sink into the crowd as he orchestrated Geoff’s men like puppets, like Ryan’s own soldiers.

“Or, you can join me.” Ryan said, raising a hand in invitation. “Join my ranks and become a legend. Help me shape this land – _our_ land – into a power that will make distant countries cry. Let us unite our people, let me reward you with riches beyond your imagination for your loyalty. Drop your swords. Join me.”

Geoff’s heart soared as not a single piece of steel clattered to the ground. Ryan’s mouth thinned into a tight slit.

“So. You’re going to be like that.” He said slowly, the glint in his eyes becoming slower, darker. “I understand. It’s a hard decision to make on the spot. No matter. I’ll make it easier for you.” He turned to Geoff, and his smile pulled the flesh of his cheeks so tight it was like the skin was going to rip from his bones.

“I’ll make it easy for the both of us.”

Edgar started to move, pacing over to the other side of the castle before swinging Geoff out over the drop and Geoff could almost feel his stomach fall to the forest floor below. He started to fight Edgar’s grip again with a renewed ferocity, grunting and yelling and carrying on and he would have gone on for a lot longer if Edgar’s fingers hadn’t tightened around his neck, cutting off his last words in a squeak. 

“This is your _beloved_ king Geoff. So _kind_ and _just_ and _patient._ ” He spat out each word of praise with the venom of a man long forgotten; on each word Edgar’s grasp pulsed around his neck, cutting off his air flow and making tears bud in the corners of his eyes. “But there is no need for a king that can’t even keep away from the royal cellar for a week in our new country, in our new age. Watch as I dispose of him – know your king is dead. Know you serve me.”

Geoff looked down at the ground – so far away - as the grip around his neck began to loosen. He thought of his army, his knights – where was Michael now? Gavin? Ray? Jack? 

Edgar let go.

Geoff hoped the four of them were safe.

With a sickening crack, the silence was broken.

-X-

If Ryan was quiet, he could almost hear the echo of the battle that had just been.

The halls were silent save for the click of his boots as he walked, the rich scent of blood still fresh in the lower halls. Occasionally he would step over bodies; a clump of men to one side made him stop for a moment, pursing his lips as he shook his head. So many men died in the battle…

“What a waste.” He mumbled in disgust, poking one man arm with his boot. He recognised this guy, a Jeremy or something; he was a newer member of the guard. Pretty friendly guy if Ryan remembered correctly; shame he didn’t even know the truth of the matter when he fell.  
  
Another group of men was shepherded past him, the gormless features of his own soldiers and the stony faces of their captives quickly telling of their fate. Ryan, being the ever generous king in his humble opinion, had sent those soldiers that had sworn allegiance to him back to their room for a good sleep. While he did have his undead soldiers on hand for more… Trying times such as these, Ryan could already feel the drain on his strength from needing to support an army for such a long period of time. Frankly, he was glad he had dealt with Geoff so early on; if he’d tried to meet Geoff later when the former king had been given some warning and Ryan’s own strength was not nearly so steeled the outcome could have been very different.

Of course, he was not the only one to thank for his success.

He could sense the gaze burning the back of his neck, could almost feel the scalding breath on his neck and Ryan turned to meet Edgar with a cruel smile and an outstretched arm.

“Oh Edgar.” He said, purring the name as his servant trotted forward, leaned into his hand like a kitten to let Ryan’s fingers trace along the bone of its skull. “You’ve done so _well_ today. I told you it would go well, didn’t I?” The beast huffed in reply; Ryan’s eyes just glinted as if he understood just what it was trying to say as he took Edgar’s face in his hands. He stroked the sides of its face in an almost loving gesture – that is, if it could be believed that a man with madness biting so close at his tongue could really give out anything that resembled love.

“You’re free to go, my pet.” He said after a moment, stroking his hands along the coarse fur along the minotaur’s shoulder before lightly pushing it back; it wasted no time in disappearing at high speed. Where? Ryan didn’t know. Didn’t really care, frankly. There were more important things at hand. Somewhat literally, in fact, as he turned to face the heavy dark wood doors that lead into the next room. He could still remember seeing them for the first time - realizing they were his now sent a shiver down his spine that was far from unpleasant. He pushed them open.  
  
The room was magnificent in its size, moonlight streaming in through several of the large side windows to illuminate the stone. It cast the room in a silver glow, making the large pillars that held up the arching roof look even more overwhelmingly tall, the roof even further away. On the walls hung banners with a depth to their detailing that was astonishing. He could recognise the man represented in each. To prove your worth as a king, one had to complete a task only a man ‘worthy’ to lead the kingdom, a sort of remembrance to Geoff’s fourth great grandfather who had been the first to pull all four regions of the kingdom together under one name. Geoff had managed to finally kill the Ender dragon after years of conflict and unease, taking it on near single handily and had been the one to thread steel through its heart to finally claim his place on the throne.  
  
Of course, Ryan wasn’t exactly a _typical_ king. He made a mental note to dispose of the banners later.  
  
Of course, there was a reason for the room’s grand stature, and as Ryan’s eyes settled on the intricate throne he could feel his lips curl into a smile. While the Ramsey’s had always been one for modesty, unlike himself, the throne was the exception. The base of the throne was made out of the same wood as the doors, but a brilliant gold covered the framework, looping and curling over gems the size of his fist. The wood seemed to seep into the stonework like rich molasses - it was an incredible piece of craftsmanship and nestled on the seat cushion was his prize.  
  
Geoff had always said there was no need for the crown to be locked away - it was just a bit of metal, he hardly even wore it so what was the point in protecting it with his life? Somebody was only going to wear it over his dead body anyway.  
Ryan just laughed as he picked up the crown in his hands, thumbs running over the intricate metalwork. What would Geoff have though if he’d known that would be exactly what had happened? It made him shake his head as he let himself relax into the throne, into the plush of the seat cushion to overlook his throne room. To overlook his castle as he lowered the crown onto his head.  
A killer’s smile split his face as he spoke.  
  
“Long live the king.”


End file.
